


Homebound

by QuillerQueen



Series: Love As the Moon Loves [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2019-03-07 04:58:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13427295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuillerQueen/pseuds/QuillerQueen
Summary: On how Queenie Regina and Robin of Locksley have been adjusting to the Wish Realm / Enchanted Forest. Written for Dark!OQ Week 2017.





	Homebound

Never had Robin dreamed he'd find home here, in a place so similar yet so very different from his realm.

The Enchanted Forest, they call it, and he recognises many a winding path and sheltered glade even though he's never visited these parts before. Yet somehow these leaves are greener, the bark smells sweeter, and the earth weaves a carpet of grass and moss softer than the slippers he's nicked from the royal chambers. In the absence of shackles chaining him to a directionless, empty past, and with no Nottingham to breathe down his neck, Robin breathes more easily.

He still looks over his shoulder constantly, but he feels oddly…free.

And yet.

A fresh start, she'd said, and hasn't he been given as much of one as she has?

If only he knew what to do with it.

Regina, on the other hand, seems to have no such dilemma. Her castle is intact here, sharp spires scraping the sky and walls standing tall and wide and seemingly impenetrable—even though it's really her magic that lends the place its most potent defence. And how she relishes her precious stock: thick grimoires and dusty scrolls, cauldrons and vials of all shapes and sizes, all manner of ingredients enticing and repulsive but without fault powerful in her capable hands.

Although not always cooperative, it would seem, for this is the third explosion coming from her chambers this morning, followed by a frustrated growl and the smashing of broken glass.

Robin, reckless bastard that he is in a world that doesn't (for now) feed his zest for adventure, pokes his head through the door presently oozing a rather revolting liquid.

"And this," he grins as he takes in the spilt contents of a shattered vial and the fury radiating off of her as she paces the room like an angry wildcat, "is why one should never skip breakfast."

"I take it you've not brought me any?" she challenges, some of the frustration giving way to amusement, and perhaps a carefully concealed speck of sincerity.

Well, they're not quite there yet, are they? They're not quite this intimate, or this sort of—of— _domestic_. Or are they? Truthfully he's still figuring out this part of his (their?) life, too. And how is it that she seems to have so much figured out already?

She's returning, that's how. This had been home to her before the Curse, before Storybrooke. That must count for something, surely.

"So," he probes by way of distraction from his insecurities and her temper, "what sort of magic has offended you so?"

"It's not that," she scoffs at the sad remnants puddling on the floor. "I've been experimenting with…some sort of magical replacement for…well, a washing machine."

"Washing machine," he says dumbly. Clearly one of those modern contraptions that would puzzle the living soul out of him back in her land.

"Yes. It's a machine that—"

"Washes?" he throws in with the kind of smirk he knows vexes her as much as it pleases her.

"Smartass. If I have to do one more load of laundry standing knee-deep in an icy brook, getting my hands raw and nails broken— Don't you dare laugh! I'm a queen, and a bit more refined!"

"Oh, no doubt, Your Majesty," Robin snorts. "You're the very epitome of poise and composure. That vial especially would attest to that."

"You can mock me for my temper, thief, but you don't know the torture of no indoor plumbing or tampons because you'd never gotten the chance to experience the perks of them."

"Tampons?"

"Oh," she falters, her cheeks taking on the slightest dab of pink. "They're, well, lady products, so technically you wouldn't—Never mind. But they make life so much easier, I don't even want to think—"

"I see."

She's so flustered Robin supposes it'd be amusing (even adorable, though neither of them would admit to that) otherwise, he'd certainly rib her mercilessly, but the topic is one he's never really discussed with a woman before and grown man that he is, he finds his own ignorance awkward. Did Other Robin have such qualms or were they so intimate it was a non-issue?

"Well," he changes the topic swiftly, "I'll have you know there is a modern perk or two I'd have liked to explore more."

"Oh?"

"Not the demon box," he says darkly, the memory of the bestial blaring bringing back echoes of a headache. The risqué thought haunting him for a while now floats to the forefront of his mind when Regina looks at him over her shoulder as she reaches for a goblet on her vanity, and the sight of her delectable rear makes it impossible to keep in. "But that marvellous tub in one of your bathrooms certainly showed promise."

Her eyebrow shoots up at that, a knowing smile curling her lips before his progressively more heated gaze makes her tongue dart out and lick those sinful lips.

"The hot tub," she rasps a needless clarification.

And even without one, they have each other hot and bothered within moments.

* * *

Regina revels.

She revels in her castle, whole and equipped with this land's luxuries. She revels in Robin's presence, and the fact he chose to come along and keeps choosing to stay. And she revels in her people, no longer planning or wishing for her early demise but accepting of her and content for the very first time with her reign.

Things may not have fallen into place completely just yet, but they're getting there.

Robin worries her, however. He's out of sorts, and when Regina lies awake at night she wonders if perhaps he wouldn't be better off without her after all. Is your soul mate supposed to uproot you like this? To turn your world upside down? Make you question everything?

"Were things easier before me?"

He shifts under her, liberating his arm from around her shoulders, and props his head up to look her in the eye. His expression is quite unreadable, and Regina shivers, her stomach plummeting.

"I suppose so," he says slowly, and she turns away to hide just how deeply that admission hurts her. But he isn't done yet. "Better, though? Not necessarily."

"But you're not happy."

"I don't know what I am," he says with an annoyed, frustrated huff. "I don't quite know who I am or what to do with this new life. It's a relief to be rid of my enemies, but it's also…"

"Boring?" she supplies with a chuckle that is decidedly not wet.

"You knew I was a scoundrel when you met me." His voice grows serious again as his fingers plunge into her hair, fiddling with it as he struggles for the right words. "You—you fit here. You are the queen, and I—"

"A burlap-loving peasant who sleeps in dirt?"

For the split second it takes him to react, Regina wonders if she's pushing it, if maybe this is a time he won't appreciate her efforts to ease the tension with their usual ribbing, but then he's snorting into her neck, pulling on her earlobe with his teeth, and she turns to him with a grin of her own.

"Excuse me, I sleep on silk sheets nowadays.  _Your_  silk sheets," Robin points out, setting to kiss down her neck, ending with a tantalising little lick to her collarbone before he sighs and plops back down into the mattress, staring at the dark canopy. "Sheets or not, I'm still just a petty thief out of a job and with not a clue what to do with myself."

Can she really blame him if he misses the thrill of adventure? Maybe she cannot answer all his questions for him, but luckily there are still nobles to rob and treasures to steal.

"How about you get one then?"

For she might be queen, but he could never be content just being her prince, and the last thing she wants is for him to compromise his true self. But perhaps, just perhaps, he could become the Prince of Thieves—the noble kind, with a purpose. If that works for him. If he's even willing to try.

It'll take time (which they have) and patience (that one might prove a challenge), but finding your path always does. She resolves not to push and he promises to keep an open mind and not beat himself up, and they agree to just let things unfold and see where life takes them.

And where life takes them is on a common path. Their intimacy is new and fragile, full of questions with no easy answers, but one thing is clear: they each cling to the other just as much as the other clings to them. And perhaps this is the most stunning, and most comforting, realisation of all: they are no longer alone. Her chambers are for two, and his mostly unoccupied. The darker corners of the castle haunted by memories no longer have sway over her as new memories chase the old ones away. Despite all the baggage, this is their fresh start, and they're building it together, right here.

Never would Regina have believed this of all places might ever feel like home.

And yet.


End file.
